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by mofumanju



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Post-Graduation, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mofumanju/pseuds/mofumanju
Summary: He didn’t expect such a welcome back, but Keito has always had the power to surprise him, after all.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> I was missing my sons, I was out for smut, and this happened; it's just a pwp, thought, so don't expect too much.  
> Also, I didn't specify it, but they graduated from Yumenosaki, a while ago now.

It’s pure bliss.   


Eichi bends his head back, leaving Keito all the space he wants,  all the space he needs. He doesn’t know if that’s just the result of being apart for weeks, first because of his tour with  _ fine _ , and then for the obvious and predictable collapse that stroke him right after leaving the last show, but he can feel it crackling around them, the anxiety and arousal and the excitement of being together again after such a long time. It was obvious the moment he stepped inside their home, how Keito wasn’t going to let him go, hands around his hips as soon as he approached him, welcoming him on his lap, welcoming him home.    


He missed him, missed it - missed the wet heat of his tongue against his neck, tracing paths to his ear that Eichi hopes Keito will travel through over and over again, missed the strong presence of those hands inside of his pants, squeezing that little of flesh not even able to fill the indument. He wonders if Keito was already hard before he got home, if he spent the last days replaying in his head frames of a movie that filled his mind too - coming back to his love nest was the only thought pulling him through, when his head hit the floor and his mind became a land of dust and fog. He didn’t expect such a welcome back, but Keito has always had the power to surprise him, after all. That’s just one of the ways he knows to get to his heart, nibbling his lobe and running his hands over his chest, fingers working his buttons fast; the groan leaving Keito’s mouth covers his neck in hot shivers, makes his stomach twist in ways that have nothing to do with the sickness that tainted him in the last period. Honestly, he could sink in that heat pooling on his belly, in the arousal driving his hips, making his crotch grind against Keito’s like waves of a stormy sea - dying like that, that would be a blessing.   


He tilts his head, offering his neck like a prey in front of a fate already set for him, and the sweet pain of teeth sinking in his flesh send a jolt of pleasure down his crotch, already hard against Keito’s stomach. He’s already so impatient, ready to put a tantrum just to make Keito hasten, and get where the both want - and at the same time he wants to taste every moment, bite on the apple at his own pace without fearing God’s rage. Keito’s fingers are always good, perfect in playing his body like the most precious instrument, and yet giving him what he really starves for, that sweet mix of pleasure and pain that makes his head spin and cut his breath in his chest. His voice is hoarse, when he feels those fingertips closing around his nipple and his mouth bites the skin under his collarbone - that little he’s been left after his stay at the hospital. He doesn’t mind if he leaves some marks - his body belongs to Keito, after all - but his lover is too caring for something like that, teasing and teasing and gifting him with drops of pain that get lost in the fog of pleasure.    


“Your pants,” Keito sighs, speaking the first words since he got inside their flat, and Eichi doesn’t even need him to go any further, knees pressing against the couch and his body lifting as much as he needs to undo the button of his pants and pull them down. His arms naturally place around Keito’s head, forcing him to meet his chest, murmuring a  _ more  _ that sounds like a chant, one of those prayer he has heard Keito recite an infinite number of times. The honey dripping down his skin is the fuel that makes him alive, the only medicine that won’t taste bitter in the back of his tongue. He loves those moments, secretly cherishes them whenever he’s alone, far for those hands parting his cheeks and intruding already inside of him, coated in nothing but need. His back arches, and again he subdues himself to the man under him - Keito is being rougher than usual, and oh, he’ll never complain about it. 

“I miss- nhh, I missed you so much, Keito,” he purrs, bending his head, burying his nose on strands of green hair as his rear meets that digit slipping past his rim and welcomes it clenching around it. Who cares about lube, when he can feel the stinging pain shaking his back, and his cock twitching against Keito’s abdomen, leaking already. He doesn’t know where to push, if he should seek pleasure in his lover’s bust or in that single finger now fully buried inside of him. Keito hums, a faint reply to his words, lips closed around that small bud to tease it and make everything unbearable. He might cry, if Keito keeps teasing him like that, pushing him against the edge of a cliff he so wants to jump off from. He feels his free hand squeezing his arse, spreading it to sink better inside, and at the same time pushing him to adhere to his body and give him what he wants, the distracting friction that keeps the ache under control. 

“More, ah- more, please…” and he knows Keito can’t resist him, that he’ll oblige the moment he stops talking to leave his mouth free to get filled with moans and sighs that carry his lover’s name. The slow rhythm is driving him crazy, because his body missed all that just as much as his mind did, and now that the input has turned his brain and body on, the only thing it can do is begging for more in the shape of shivers of pleasure. Feeling Keito inside of him, feeling his fingers opening inside of him, opening him apart, makes him clench his fingers on his hair and moan his name once again, and if he’s already desperate after a bit of foreplay he wonders what will be of him when his cock will ravish him, buried in familiar flesh.     


“Eichi, let me have you,” Keito sighs against his hot skin, as if he really needs for permission in moments like this. Pressing his lips against his lover’s head is just an excuse to make his hands slip down Keito’s chest, pinch his sensitive spots through his shirt before they cup Keito’s crotch. He can’t help leaving a breathy giggle, shaking his head to comment on his hardness, but he doesn’t leave him there suffering - he really can’t, when he’s the one craving it the most. He still can’t stop smiling, when he pulls the zip down, when he feels some dampness against his knuckles, when he pulls Keito’s briefs down and thinks, for a second, that that heat could burn him, mark him until he dies.   


“Give- ah, give me a second, let me…” Eichi sighs, but he’s not really able to formulate any coherent sentence, when he feels Keito’s fingers pulling back and he slides down the couch with shaking legs just to get rid of the clothes restraining his movements. Keito doesn’t give him more than the time he needs, and Eichi can’t really blame him when he caught a glimpse of his shaft, shining with beads of precum, hungry and needy just as his own is. He’s met again with that welcoming body under his weight, and in the heat of the moment he makes his shirt slide down his arms, leaving to Keito the pleasure to pull it off and throw it on the floor, there where it belongs. 

“Keito, Keito, please,” he moans, wrapping his arms around Keito’s neck and burying his face on the crook of his neck, nibbling like a pet trying to get what he wants with nothing but a pure, faked disinterest. He looks down only to see Keito’s hand wrapping around his cock, keeping it still, and when Eichi feels those lips rubbing against his neck, he knows what’s about to say.    


“Do it yourself. Take it.”

He would cry - oh, he will, he’s sure of that, when he’s about to be satisfied after weeks of solitude, when Keito is giving him everything he wants, love that feeling of submission that clashes so much with the real power his lover is putting in his hands. The moment he feels that tip brushing against his tip is the moment he stops breathing, holding all the air he can inside of his lungs as his body lowers against Keito’s cock, the lack of lube making his flesh tear apart. It’s a feeling, just a feeling, some seasoning that makes the main dish tastier, juicier. Without the coat of lube he can feel each inch of Keito’s length getting wrapped by his insides, and he doesn’t mind the ache invading his lower body, spreading from his rim and up to his back. It’s worth it, it’s worth every second of it. Pain, pleasure, they both are part of a game he loves to play too much to give up on it.    


“F-feels so, nh- so good already,” he manages to say, as his rear finally sits on Keito’s thigh and he fully welcomes that wonderful cock inside. His flesh is burning, but after all, isn’t that what Keito does to him every time? Igniting a flame that burns him from the inside, both metaphorically and physically. His head spins a bit, when he clenches around him on purpose and steals a groan, but he doesn’t feel faint. It’s just the intoxicating feeling of drunkenness, something impossible to avoid when all the water in the world is at your disposal and your mouth is dry. Pain is a friend he holds dear, when it’s in the shape of a contact longed for weeks, and that’s what gives him the strength to lift his body again, just for the sake of his own pleasure, just to feel Keito rub against his walls as he slowly slips out of him. He stops right before the time can come out too, teasing himself and rolling his hips. Oh, he wishes he could take its shape, carve it on his inside just to be able to feel him even when they are apart - and yet, that’s one of those dreams that will never be real, his days far from home being the punishment God set on him to be a victim of such a carnal desire. He sinks on him again, dry, fast, stealing another sigh from Keito’s lips, collecting in a drawer inside his head that voice spilling his name with a broken voice. They are just teens again, so hard and so addicted one to the other that Eichi wouldn’t be surprised, if they didn’t last for long. The tip of his cock faintly brushes against Keito’s abdomen every time he moves, leaving tracks of its passages, begging for an attention that Keito neglects just to bury his hands in his flat moulds, spreading them to invite Eichi to sink ever further, faster, and catch a rhythm that will leave them spent and breathless, but satisfied.    


It’s unfair. It’s unfair that Keito can’t follow him in his tours because he has to take care of  _ fine _ ’s business there, it’s unfair that Keito can’t be one with him everytime he needs him, everytime he wants him. He loses himself in the sound of flesh against flesh, in the hand closed around his cock, Keito’s fingers almost slippery against it. Ah, he can feel it throbbing, just as Keito inside of him, when he starts to meet his thrusts and pushes even further inside.   


He’s glad to be alive. The hassle of hospital needles on his arm, hand, foot, the poor taste of food, the days on the other side of the world for the sake of a career he should have stopped pursuing once he graduated - he can stand all those things, little in front of the love he feels for his beloved childhood friend. That same love spills out of his mouth at each push, each time Keito squeezes him his rear, forces him down his shaft and calls his name - Eichi, Eichi, Eichi.    


His name sounds beautiful on those lips he looks for when he’s close to come, his thighs hurting a bit because in the end, his one is still a fragile body - but who cares, when there’s a fuel burning inside his stomach, ready to make him spill lava as he cries out Keito’s name right inside his lover’s mouth? It’s amazing, how strong his orgasms are, how Keito shifts a bit on the couch just to hit that soft spot that melts his nerves and reduces him to sobs of pure pleasure. Eichi is the map Keito has used and abused a thousand time just to find those treasures he now uses to both their advantage, and Eichi is gentle, Eichi is kind, squeezing down despite the overwhelming feeling of release just to invite Keito to do the same.   


And he does. Keito obliges, he bends down to Eichi needs which wonderfully meet his own, and Eichi welcomes every drop of Keito’s love inside of him, hot and sticky as he fills every free inch and stuffs him full. The smell of sex tingle his nostrils, and he finally feels home for real.    
“Don’t pull out,” he purrs against Keito’s neck, as he sits on Keito’s thigh despite the uncomfortable presence. He’s gone through worse, bearing with that intrusive presence now it’s easier than swallowing down a pill. “I want a second round.”   
Keito sighs, already done, but Eichi smiles as he feels his nose brushing against the crook of his neck. Eichi mentally counts up to three, before a second sigh comes, and Keito  scolds him with a word that they both have heard and said a thousand times in their life, and will never get tired of.   


“How incorrigible,” he sighs, and with the phantom of a kiss over his shoulder, Eichi knows he’s at his safe place again.


End file.
